


For the Both of Us

by ArgentLives



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, Flirting, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4725905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison Argent is used to shooting arrows at criminals and always hitting her targets. When Kira Yukimura comes into the picture, however, she's not prepared for the one aimed straight at her heart.</p><p> </p><p>or: The Silver Archer, masked vigilante and Beacon Hill's long time protector, is going to have to learn to share. There's a new girl in town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Both of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zcinmalik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zcinmalik/gifts).



> I hope you like it! Thanks [Sophia](http://killersvibestorm.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this for me!

Really, Allison thought, as she expertly tied up the two criminals she’d just caught—a simple robbery, made a little more complicated by the fact that they’d had claws and fangs—Beacon Hills was just a magnet for supernatural crime.

Which, of course, was why it was the perfect place for someone like her to live, because supernatural crime was what she _did_. Or stopped, rather. The fact of the matter was that there was a natural order of things here: the bad guys did bad things—or at least they tried to—, she suited up, grabbed her bow trademark silver arrows, and caught them before they could do any real serious damage. It was something she was good at. It was something she enjoyed. And after spending most of her life in her parents’ shadows and trying to figure out who she really was, struggling with her identity outside of being just another Argent, it was nice to have something that was hers. To fight for a cause that she actually believed in.

The Silver Archer, they called her. The first time she’d seen it plastered across a newspaper headline on her way to work, she’d done a double take at the blurry photo featured beneath it. Because that was _her_. Masked and hooded and features indistinguishable to anyone else, sure, but she’d recognized herself immediately. ‘ _The Silver Archer Saves the Day’_ , the headline had read. She’d bought the newspaper with a smile on her lips, beaming at the cashier and telling him to please, keep the change, and decided right away that she approved of the name. After that it had stuck, too, and she’d become Beacon Hill’s unofficial protector. She still had the newspaper clipping hanging up on her fridge in her apartment.

It had cemented her name, her role, although it wasn’t like they hadn’t taken notice of her before. Not when she was consistently putting a stop to things that the police couldn’t handle and then dropping off the culprits, defeated and tied up, at the station to be dealt with further, to await a trial. They’d had to start lining the cells of the prison with mountain ash, thanks to a rather strongly worded message she’d left them when there’d been a mass break out one particularly memorable week, because apparently the police hadn’t realized that normal precautions were simply not enough considering the kinds of people and things they were dealing with. Really, they never learned.

And she was careful, of course. About protecting her identity. But there were times she’d had to flee the scene in a hurry, make her exit abrupt, and she couldn’t always retrieve all her arrows from their targets, sometimes ending up having to leave some behind. She supposed that’s where they’d gotten the name ‘Silver Archer,’ and really, she wasn’t complaining. It was a good name. One that meant so much more to her, too, considering her own surname—although only a select few of those who knew her actually knew _that_.

She was sheathing her arrows, musing about how foolish these particular criminals had been (really, who tried to rob one of the most high security banks in the town, one designed to keep out the natural and the supernatural, armed with nothing more than teeth and claws?), when her phone rang. She took one look at the caller ID, removed the sleek black glove on her bow-hand, and picked it up on the third ring.

“Hey, Scott,” she said, balancing the phone against her cheek and her shoulder, freeing up her hands to pull an arrow out one of the subdued werewolf’s thighs.

“Allison. Are you busy?”

There was something about the way he said her name that alarmed her, alerted her to the fact that whatever he was calling about, it was urgent. And since Scott was one of the few friends who was in on her secret, she could sort of guess what that was.

“Not anymore. Why, what’s up?”

Scott let out a long breath, lowering his voice and speaking hurriedly into the receiver. “You know those twins you’ve been tracking down? The ones responsible for all those double homicides? I just got a call from Deaton. They’ve been sighted by some campers in the woods behind Brookview Lake.”

Allison felt her pulse quicken, a rush of adrenaline, excitement, and (although she hated to admit it) fear shooting through her veins, instantly putting her on high-alert. Allison was seldom scared of much, or at least she tried (and pretended) very hard not to be, but these twins…they were something else. She’d come away from her last fight from them quite worse for wear, only narrowly escaping, and she hadn’t seen them since—although she’d been searching for them from the second she’d recovered, determined to stop them once and for all. Especially before they could hurt anyone else. They weren’t the petty thieves or one-time criminals she dealt with more often than not; they were practically serial killers. She’d honestly thought that they’d left town, but…apparently not.

“I’m on it. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course. Just…be careful, Allison. Last time…last time we almost couldn’t save you. Please don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

Allison managed a shaky smile and nodded for his sake, before remembering he obviously wouldn’t be able to see it. She didn’t like risking going to the hospital, although Scott insisted that his mom would cover for her, because usually it just led to too many questions she didn’t have the energy to put up with. Instead, she went to Deaton and Scott, who knew enough to patch her up and take care of her injuries. Most of the time. “Promise,” she said, gripping her bow tight, trying to make her voice sound strong, and much more confident then she felt. “I’ll get ‘em this time.”

“Okay. Okay. Good luck. You can do this.”

"Thanks, Scott."

She bid him goodbye and promised one last time that she’d be careful, sticking her phone back in her pocket and balling her empty hand into a fist to stop its trembling. _Get a grip, Allison_ , she scolded herself. She couldn’t fight if her hands were trembling too much to properly aim. She cast a glance at the thieves she’d just dealt with, decided that she had more important things to attend to, and deliberately tripped the alarm so that the police would show up and finish the job.

The drive to the lake passed by in a blur, her knuckles white as she gripped the wheel so tightly she was surprised it didn’t splinter beneath the pressure, and before she knew it she was parking just far enough away to stealthily sneak through the woods on foot. She pulled on her mask, pulled up her hood, and hoisted her bag of arrows over her shoulder, her bow acting like a sort of anchor, forcing her to stay calm, keep an even head. She swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, like she’d practiced, finally steeling herself and plunging into the woods, moving with the stealth and quiet of a practiced hunter.

It didn’t take long before she spotted her target through the leaves and branches she was concealed behind, the giant hulking shape that indicated the twins had done that gross, bizarre, and incredibly dangerous (for her, and anyone in her path, that was) fusing thing they did to make one even bigger, scarier werewolf. And shit, she did not just admit that.

Another deep breath, and—wait. Was that _fire_?

A campfire, her mind supplied, that somebody had forgotten to put out, had to be, but no—it was moving. And as it got closer to the twin-wolf creature, Allison saw the faint outline of a figure inside of it. It wasn’t just moving, she realized with a shock, taking in the long sword it brought down with a gruesome noise on the creature’s shoulder, and the subsequent roar of pain and fury that followed. It was _fighting_. Not even just fighting; it was winning.

She watched, frozen, as the figure darted with graceful movements around the creature, slashing and hitting and fighting, fighting, fighting, all the while blazing away, moving like it wasn’t fucking _on fire_. Finally, the twins-turned-one fell face forward on the ground with an almighty crash, and the figure stood triumphantly over it. Allison couldn’t see much through all those flames, but from what she could see, it definitely looked person-shaped, and…she shook her head, finally shaking herself out of her daze, her mind working furiously.

“ _What the hell_?”

She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, of course, hadn’t meant to draw attention to herself, but she couldn’t help it—it slipped out accidentally, and startled her out of her hiding place. The figure turned towards her for a moment, the flames around it settling down to reveal a woman—shorter than she’d expected, long dark hair pulled back into a high, tight, ponytail, clad in a slightly eclectic outfit—were those knee-high socks with lightning bolts on them?—and a mask that looked curiously like a fox that obscured most of her face. Most, but not enough, however, for Allison to miss the tiny little smirk she sent her way before giving a jaunty little salute and then bolting in the opposite direction, leaving Allison staring in awe and confusion at the empty space she’d just occupied. The empty space that had just been on _fire_ , and the unconscious werewolf on the ground where it had fallen at her feet.

She would’ve gone after her. _Wanted_ to go after her. But instead she just stood there, frozen on the spot, trying to make sense of what she’d just seen. It wasn’t so much the whole girl-on-fire-wielding-some-sort-of-large-sword part of it that had her struggling to comprehend the situation. She dealt with the supernatural all the time; she’d seen plenty of strange and incredible and otherwise unbelievable things. Although this, she had to admit, was a first.

But no: it was image of her standing there, triumphant, after taking out the twin werewolf killers—the ones Allison had been chasing and tracking and working to take down for _months_ now, that she had failed to take down before—that she couldn’t shake. The sight of her struggling, and fighting, and _winning_. That _mask_. The real reason for her shock, for her slowly-dawning dread and distress, came to her with shocking clarity: it was the fact that apparently, there was someone else out there trying to take her job.

She snapped her mouth shut with an audible little click, picking her jaw up from the floor. Her expression quickly morphed into a scowl as she made her way over to the werewolf that the girl on fire had taken out, wondering how she’d done it, and why. She wasn’t a jealous person by nature, except yeah, she was so totally jealous right now. Jealous and indignant, and a whole lot in awe.

She fished her phone out of her pocket to call Scott; she was definitely going to need some help lugging these—this?—monsters to the police station. Especially since right now, they, it, him, _whatever,_ was entirely dead weight.  Really, this mysterious girl comes out of nowhere, takes away the honor of putting these guys down, and then leaves her to clean up the mess? Real considerate. She steadfastly ignored the nagging little voice in her head telling her that she should be grateful, that this was something she really could’ve used the help on anyway, because she was _trying_ to be bitter. And she couldn’t very well carry on holding a grudge if she was feeling grateful.

Whatever the case may be, she mused, hitting the ‘call’ button and listening to it ring, she was definitely going to keep tabs on this mystery woman. At her core, she was a hunter, after all; she knew how to track things—or in this case, people. First thing first, she had to determine who this woman was, and if she was friend or foe. And then maybe ask her what the hell she thought she was doing playing the hero in _her_ town.

 

-_-_-_-

 

It was a slow day at work. Her parents were out on a business trip to a nearby city for the week, trying to sell their latest stock of semi-automatics to an interested bidder, leaving Allison and her co-worker Braeden solely in charge of the store while they were away. Which she was totally fine with—it was nice to not have her mother hovering over her shoulder, criticizing every little thing from the way she stocked the shelves to how fast or slow she counted change, and she and Braeden had gotten pretty close since they’d started working together. She was out on lunch break at the moment though, leaving Allison alone for the time being to man the register.

She was in the middle of examining one of her arrows, considering the benefits of altering them to improve aerodynamic function and possibly speed and maybe toying with the possibility making some improvements to those exploding ones she was so fond of, when the familiar jingle of bells on the front door alerted her to the presence of a customer entering the store. She looked up from her task to spare them a glance, discreetly hiding the silver arrow in the hollow space under the counter she had long since learned to use for moments like these, and found herself looking at a petite, clumsy woman she wouldn’t expect to see in a place like this. Definitely not their usual demographic—but hey, it was always nice to shake things up a bit.

Allison watched as she wove through the aisles, stopping at every shelf, clearly searching for something. It was sort of adorable, Allison decided, the way she scrunched up her nose, bit her lip or tapped her foot each time she paused and didn’t find what she was looking for. _She_ was sort of adorable.

“Can I help you, miss?” Allison asked in amusement, finally taking pity on her after a few entertaining minutes of watching the woman amble around the store in confusion. She startled, in the middle of the handheld weapons aisle, nearly dropping the small, ornate knife she was examining. To Allison’s surprise, however, she deftly caught it just in time before it clattered to the floor. Much better reflexes then she would’ve expected from the easily-flustered customer, she mused, as the woman looked left and right and all around her, clearly trying to determine if she was the one being addressed. Finally, her gaze landed on Allison, and Allison quirked an eyebrow at her in response, as if to say, ‘ _Yes, you._ ’

The woman nodded, took a deep, steadying breath, and placed the knife back on the shelf. She approached the counter nervously, with awkward, shuffling steps, like she wasn’t quite sure what she was doing or how to approach the situation. _Awkward and cute_ , Allison thought to herself. Why had she never seen her around before? Beacon Hills, while chock-full of the impossible, wasn’t a particularly large town.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I—I’m new here. Just moved this week, all the way from New York, so this is all really different. Like super different. Totally opposite sides of the country different, you know, and I don’t really know how things work around here and all, and—anyway. Yeah. I’m looking for a piercing combat dagger. Do you have something like that, by any chance? A friend told me this was the best place to come to for that kind of thing. Best in Beacon Hills, he said.”

“Best on the West Coast, more like.” Allison grinned, maybe just a little too friendly, before catching herself in the act. _No flirting with the customers_ , she reminded herself sternly. _You remember what happened last time, with Isaac. Mom and dad would have my head._ But then the girl was grinning back, a little bit hesitant but all sunny and warm, and all thoughts of disappointing her parents melted away along with the fluttery feeling in her stomach. _Okay, well, maybe a little flirting_. “We’ve got just about everything here. Something like that probably wouldn’t be on the shelves, though—let me check in the back for you. Just stay right there—I’ll be back in a sec.”

True to her word, and thanks to countless hours of making sure she knew every inch of this store by heart, she found the dagger quickly, noting with interest that they only had a couple of this particular item in stock. Kira was really lucky, she supposed—or else people just didn’t usually buy these things, which, you know, made a lot more sense. Not everyone shared her affinity for weapons other than guns: her compact bow and silver arrows were obviously her favorite, but she also loved her crossbow, her Chinese ring daggers, and oh—that one she’d used (borrowed from the store’s supply, her mind supplied, not stolen, really) just the other day, that electric-shock stick. Now _that_ was cool.

She handled the knife with care, admiring the designs on the handle and turning it over almost reverently in her hand as she emerged from the back room, holding it up a bit for the girl to see to show her that she’d found it. She placed it on the counter and couldn’t help but smirk—the girl seemed impressed by her efficiency. Briefly, she wondered if service was slow in New York, or something, before pointing to the knife and flicking her gaze up from it to meet the girl’s, only to find her staring at the thing with a spark of satisfaction in her eyes.

“This what you were looking for?” Allison asked, already knowing the answer to that question just by the look on her face.

“This is perfect!” the girl beamed at her, gratefully accepting the dagger, picking it up and running her fingers along the handle, and then softly along the blade with almost as much, if not more, reverence than Allison had. “Thank you _so_ much. How much do I owe you?”

“That one is $100.00,” Allison said, and watched as the girl’s face fell, as she bit her lip and placed it dejectedly back on the counter.

“Actually, you know what, I totally forgot,” she amended, mentally kicking herself as she did. _What are you doing, what the hell are you doin_ g? she thought furiously to herself, because this was _so_ against policy, and her parents would likely kill her if they knew, but her traitor mouth kept moving, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “We’re having a special today. All handheld weapons are, uh, half off. Yeah. So it’s, um. It’s actually $50.00. Is that—uh, is that better?”

“Yeah,” the girl said slowly, giving her a funny look, like she was trying to figure her out. She’d never been a very good liar, and it was clear the girl didn’t really believe her, although she obviously wasn’t exactly complaining. Allison shifted a little under her gaze, but kept her gaze steady, resolute. “That’s—that’s a lot better. Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” she puffed out her cheeks, letting the air out with a bubbly little laugh. Her voice was heavy with relief and genuine gratitude. “Really.”

“Don’t thank me,” Allison waved her off, hesitating for a half-a-second before deciding ‘ _fuck it’_ and throwing Kira a flirty wink. “It’s just store policy, and all.”

“O-kaaay,” Kira nodded, but she was still smiling like she didn’t really believe her, that tiny spark of delighted understanding in her eyes.

So,” Allison said conversationally as she took Kira’s money, opening up the register to get her change. “You said a friend recommended us to you? Do you mind me asking who? It’s always nice knowing who’s supporting us, out there.”

“Oh, uh, Scott. Scott McCall. He runs the veterinary clinic around here, you know? I work with his mom, in the hospital. Just started the other day—great family, really. The two of them have been great helping me get settled in, and all.”

“Scott’s a good friend of mine,” Allison smiled, making a mental note to thank him later. “You know, I know what it feels like to be the new girl. I was in your position, a few years back. My family used to move around all the time. I wouldn’t mind showing you the ropes around here, sometime. That is, if you wanted. If you ever had any questions, that kind of thing—”

“I’d like that, um—” her eyes darted downward, to something on Allison’s shirt, and she briefly wondered if she’d spilled something on herself at lunch, but then she met her gaze again and said with resolution, “—Allison. Is it okay I call you that? That’s what your name tag says. I wasn’t trying to be weird—was that weird? I’m sorry, I—”

“Allison’s fine. That is my name, after all, Allison Argent,” Allison said, wincing a bit as the words left her mouth, feeling slightly ridiculous. “My family owns this store, it’s kind of our family business and all, that’s why—Argent, and all. The name on the—anyway. I don’t think I ever got your name?”

“Kira. Kira Yukimura. It was really nice to meet you, Allison. Um, I’d like to take you up on that offer sometime, you know, if I could just have some way of…getting in contact with you?”

“Here,” Allison scribbled down her number on receipt as she finished bagging Kira’s purchase, stuffing it into the bag before handing it over to her along with her change.

“Thanks,” Kira beamed at her, putting the bag down for a second to examine the receipt, studying it as though trying to commit it to memory. Finally, she tucked it into her back pocket with a smile and gave an awkward little wave goodbye, before turning away and making her way towards the door. Allison counted down the seconds in her head, watching Kira’s back in amusement, waiting for it. _One, two, three, f_ —

“Oh! Oh, shit, um, I totally forgot—” Kira whipped back around, stumbling back towards the counter, a light blush creeping into her cheeks.

“Yeah. Here you go,” Allison smiled kindly at her, holding back a laugh, as she handed over the bag she’d nearly left without.

“Thanks, uh…again,” Kira mumbled, now blushing furiously, keeping her eyes resolutely downcast.

“Hey, no biggie,” Allison waved it off, silently willing Kira to look up again before she left and see that she found it adorable rather than embarrassing, but no such luck. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground in humiliation as she nervously shifted the bag from one hand the other, nodding to show that she’d heard. She muttered a quick ‘bye’ under her breath before turning on her heel and heading out the door for real this time, pausing just as she put her hand on the handle to look over her shoulder. Allison grinned, waving to show that she wasn’t ashamed at being caught watching her leave, and the shy smile that she caught on Kira’s lips before she hurried out the door was more than worth it.

 

-_-_-_-

 

“So,” Allison began, wiping her hands on her napkin and leveling Scott with a serious look. “I met this girl the other day…”

They were at the local coffee shop, Beacon’s Beans, their favorite place to meet up to catch up after a long week like this. Scott put his coffee down to whistle, waggling his eyebrows at her. She rolled her eyes, because of course he’d assume that. Every time she mentioned a cute girl, this was his reaction. It was sort of their code, anyway, or at least he’d decided it was. Supportive friend all the way, and she was grateful, but seriously. Every time? She didn’t even realize she hadn’t mentioned she thought Kira was cute.

“At the _shop_ ,” she clarified, because really, it wasn’t what he was thinking. Except…it kind of was? _Not the point,_ she reminded herself. _Focus_. “Like, literally just met. Kira Yukimura? She said she knew you.”

“Oh, Kira!” Scott’s eyes lit up at the name, that sunny smile of his that always left Allison a little baffled stretching across his face. “Yeah, Kira is great. She works at the hospital with my mom. I’ve hung out with her a few times. She’s really cool—I think you guys would really get along. Why?”

“Just curious.” Allison shrugged, secretly relieved to know that Kira was apparently just as nice as she seemed, and not secretly like…a murderer, or something, buying knives for some nefarious purpose. In Beacon Hills, you could never be too careful. “I sort of might have offered to show her around town.”

“So it _is_ like that.” He grinned at her, and she bit back a groan at the sheer excitement in his face. “You have to let me know how that goes.”

“Buy me a Danish, McCall, and maybe I will.”

 

-_-_-_-

 

“Hmm…” Allison worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she squinted at the screen, processing the latest article she’d just read in a whole string of articles and blog posts and little mentions here and there that she’d dug up in her search to figure out who the mysterious fox-like katana-wielding literally-on-fire woman was. Despite lots of dead-ends and frustration over the past few weeks, she finally seemed to be getting somewhere. She’d been able to piece together information and follow a trail that led her to a whole slew of articles detailing the adventures of a woman that fit the description she was looking for perfectly, and that’s where it got interesting.

Apparently, she’d been what Allison was to Beacon Hills to New York City for the past few years, fighting crime and making a name for herself, too. A superhero they called Vixen, one that, unlike Allison, appeared to have actual superpowers. Which wasn’t quite true either, Allison knew, because the woman didn’t really have superpowers so much as she was just supernatural; she’d figured that one out with the help of Deaton, piecing together what they knew and poring over her bestiary before finally determining that Vixen was apparently something called a thunder kitsune, which was equal parts intriguing and vaguely terrifying. The fire thing was still really cool, though.

Anyway, the trail went cold dating back to just less than a month ago, when the woman had by all intents and purposes seemed to have vanished. Allison knew better, of course. She’d run into her a lot, actually, always showing up to crime scenes within minutes of each other. At first it had only annoyed her further, the thought of sharing her town—which was petty, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. This was _her_ thing. But then the woman had saved her life, and a few days later she’d returned the favor, and, well, she couldn’t really hate her after that. Not that she’d actually _hated_ her to begin with, but still. She’d had to learn to let go of her grudge, and how to work around each other, or more recently these days, _with_ each other. And truth be told, she’d definitely developed something of a grudging admiration for this ‘Vixen’ woman. It didn’t mean she wasn’t still curious though, determined to find out more about her.

“Whatcha ‘doin?” Kira said in a sing-song voice, breaking her concentration, draping her arms around the back of Allison’s chair and hugging her from behind.  Allison smiled and leaned into her touch, twisting her head a bit to press her lips against Kira’s arm.

It had been four weeks since she’d gotten the call from Kira requesting that she make good on her offer to show her around town, and she had. Four weeks and a day since she’d met Kira in her parent’s store. They’d started dating after the fifth time they’d met up to go out for coffee, and a few days after that Kira had confessed that she’d been a little nervous and a lot embarrassed about calling Allison so soon after they’d met, afraid of seeming over-eager. Allison had just kissed her and told her she was glad that she had.

“Research,” she replied, debating whether to switch tabs and try to pretend like she’d been researching something a little less suspicious, but she suspected Kira already knew about her fixation with this masked vigilante.

Kira peered over her shoulder to get a better look at the screen, groaning a bit as she realized what she was looking at. She moved from behind Allison to perch herself on the edge of the desk, giving Allison an exasperated look. She was wearing one of Allison’s sweaters, Allison noted with a little flutter in her stomach, and _only_ the sweater. It looked good on her—just a little too big, the sleeves swallowing up her hands, the bottom extending just past her waistline. Her hair was a mess, and Allison didn’t doubt that she’d just woken up. They both had a rare day off from their respective jobs today, and Kira had spent the night at her apartment, as she’d been doing more and more often lately.

When given the chance, Kira tended to wake up late, and Allison early, so she’d learned to steal away from her sleepy embrace as discreetly as possible when getting out of bed so as not to disturb her. The faint smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen wafted through the air, and she suddenly felt a burst of fondness at everything about this moment, her girlfriend here in front of her and the domesticity of it all and Kira looked—well, Kira looked adorable. As per usual.

“Her again?” Kira’s sigh brought her forcibly back down to Earth. “Seriously, I think you’re obsessed.”

“Not _obsessed_ ,” Allison insisted a little too defensively, “Just curious. Seriously, I want to know what her deal is. Who is she? Why does she do what she does? Where did she come from? Actually—” Allison’s eyes widened as she realized she already knew the answer to that last question. “I know she’s from New York City. You know who else is from New York City?”

She eyed Kira eagerly, suddenly bursting with questions to drill her with. Kira’s reaction was…strange. Her faced seemed to pale and she stumbled over her words, fumbling for a response, suddenly twisting her fingers together like she did when she got nervous. “Uh—I don’t—what do you—I mean, yes, I am too, but why—what—I don’t—”

“Chill out,” Allison frowned, wondering what her deal was. “I was just going to ask you what you knew about her. _If_ you knew about her, when you lived there. I’m sure you had to have heard something, you know? She was a pretty big deal.”

“Oh.” Kira’s laugh sounded shrill and forced, but the tension seemed to leave her shoulders some. “Oh, right. Of course. Well. Yeah, I’ve heard of her, but I don’t really know anything more than you do, I’m sure. Anyway, who cares, you know? She’s not that special. Now, that Silver Archer girl— _she’s_ cool, am I right?”

 

-_-_-_-

 

“Fuck,” Allison swore as she picked herself off of the ground, feeling a sharp pain in her leg that she shook off in irritation. She glared at her crossbow, which had somehow been thrown all the way to the other side of the room when she’d fallen. Well, been thrown, more like.

“Look down,” Vixen hissed at her, doing that weird thing where she tried to make her voice sound all low and gravelly, gesturing to Allison’s feet. Her gaze flickered downward, and with a start she realized that the katana was right there. When she glanced up again, she followed Vixen’s gaze and noticed that her crossbow was much closer to Vixen then it was to her. She nodded in understanding, picking up the katana from the ground as Vixen picked up her crossbow, thanking God that she’d opted to bring it today instead of her usual bow and arrow. The katana felt strange and heavy in her hands, but she held it out in front of her nonetheless, pointing it at the chimera in front of them threateningly as Vixen pointed her crossbow much the same.

Five minutes later, they were both panting, sweaty, and out of breath, but the chimera was successfully out cold on the ground in front of them. Vixen slumped against the wall, her eyes sliding shut in exhaustion, as Allison finished tying the mountain ash-infused knots around his legs and hands.

“Thanks,” Allison grunted, scooping up something shiny and sharp from the ground as she stood up on shaky legs. She’d noticed it early in their fight, before Vixen had unsheathed her katana, when they’d still been attempting to fight with smaller weapons. “I think you dropped—oh.” Her eyes widened with shock as she looked at the knife in her hand, really looked at it, ran her hand over the handle, feeling those familiar grooves, that familiar design, everything about familiar because that knife was _hers_. Well, not hers, but it was from her store. She’d recognize it anywhere, because—

“ _Kira?_ ”

She watched as the woman— _Kira’s_ —expression, or what she could see of it through her mask, went from confused to comprehending to utterly bewildered at the sound of her voice, her eyes flying open in surprise, her hands falling to her sides as though her arms had suddenly gone numb.

“ _Allison_?”

“Oh my God, it _is_ you. Oh my god, you—?”

“ _Me_? Look at _you_ —”

“ _You’re—?”_

“Her, oh my god. You’re her. You’re you, but you’re her, but you’re…both. Holy shit, Allison, this is—”

“Wow. I— _wow_ ,” Allison breathed, her mind struggling to come to terms with this unexpected development.

“Yeah,” Kira agreed.

They stared at each other for a few moments in stunned silence, wide-eyed in disbelief, before something dawned on Allison’s memory, something that made her break out into a grin. She didn’t even try to conceal the smugness in her voice when she spoke. “So, you think I’m cool? That’s cute.”

“Huh. I did say that, didn’t I?” Kira grinned back at her, a devious glint in her eyes, vaguely visible through her the holes in her mask. “But, to be fair, you’re the one who was obsessed with me.”

“I was not obsessed!” Allison huffed, slapping her on the arm. Kira laughed, and made to take her mask off, the tension melting away, but Allison caught her wrist, suddenly determined that she _not_ do that. For…reasons. “Wait.”

“What?” Kira blinked at her, bemused, and Allison swallowed hard, the post-fight adrenaline still pounding through her veins. Kira was a bit beat up from the fight, strands of hair sticking out of her tight ponytail and a shallow cut standing out on the small patch of skin not obscured by her mask, and Allison was sure she didn’t look much better, but fuck—Kira looked good like this. All in costume, with that mask on, looking the perfect picture of a superhero.

She meant to say ‘keep it on,’ but instead she just leaned forward, closing the distance between them, to pull Kira into a kiss. It was warm and passionate, familiar but also…different, at the same time. Because this was _Kira, her girlfriend Kira,_ and she knew what it felt like to kiss her, but somehow, high of this sudden realization of their mutual secret identities and all her senses still on high alert, there was something unique about being the Silver Archer kissing New York City’s absentee superhero Vixen, something fun and new and _great_.

Kira seemed to get the message loud and clear, because she wrapped her arms around Allison’s waist, their weapons clattering to the floor, her lips curling into a smile against Allison’s. She pulled back a bit to kiss a scrape on her jaw, her lips ghosting over the raw skin there, before bringing a hand up to touch Allison’s mask, all soft and gentle and curious, but undeniably excited.

“You know, that's just what I had in mind.”

 


End file.
